


Riding the leather

by ImNotAnOwl



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, M/M, Not Beta Read, Rough Sex, Rutting, Spit As Lube, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, pet play kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23286859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotAnOwl/pseuds/ImNotAnOwl
Summary: "You want to rut? Fine. I want you to rut against my thigh until you come in your breeches. And then, if I’m satisfied I will take my pleasure out of you."Or:Jaskier wakes up humping Geralt's knee. The witcher is not amused. Filthy smut unsues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 303





	Riding the leather

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of working and sleeping, oopsie....
> 
> It's not beta read. I apologise in advance if there are grammar or spelling mistakes.  
> I hope you'll like it. I love some dommy Geralt and dirty Jaskier.  
> (I don't like the title so maybe it'll change if I come up with something better)
> 
> Enjoy!

A knee was settled between his legs, pressed against his groin. One shift of his hips and the brown haired man gasped. A tug at his hair. Another gasp. He couldn’t control it. His hips moved against his will. He had definitely lost all control now. The fabric of his pants rough against his sensitive member. The leather between his leg enhancing the sensation of warmth. He was a hot mess. Everything around him was so hot. His skin his burning, sweat breaking on his brow, on his back. A warm breath caressing his neck, sometimes replaced by the wet and hot lick of a tongue, lapping slowly up and down his throat. The room filled only by the soft gasp leaving his lips, the rustle of the clothes and the dirty, filthy low words uttered by Geralt.

They’ve been at it for a short while now, and it all started because of Jaskier. Because of his foolishness. He was having the most wonderful dream, of him in a forest, settled on Roach with Geralt, his back pressed against the witcher as they were peacefully riding on the path. Geralt had one hand on the reins, the other cupping the bard’s groin, so naturally Jaskier being Jaskier, even more so in his dreams, started rubbing himself against the warm palm. He had barely moved his hips a couple of time before he had heen jolt awake by a firm press of a knee on his groin and a tug at his hair. He heard a growl, then the hoarse voice of someone who had just woken up asking him “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Fuck, he was pressed against Geralt, his face buried in the crook of his neck. They had been sharing the only bed, as they often do to keep warm at night, but also because Jaskier could _not_ bear sleeping away from him. But he had not realised how much he had rolled around in his sleep, how close to the witcher he had got, how entangled they had become.

Fuck, the realisation dawned on him, that was Geralt knees that he had been humping. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. He was screwed. Well, unfortunately he wasn’t, yet.

He had stuttered some explanation, about him dreaming and being not aware of his body moving. Which _was_ true, he swore to the man next to him. The witcher only answered with one of his best pensive “hm,” ever the loquacious man. Jaskier did not know at that moment how talkative the witcher was about to be. Nor could he imagine the effect it would have on him. And so it began, the filthy stream of words that would bring him to release, like a wanton, sex-starved beast.

“You think you can use me while I sleep? You thought I would not mind waking up to you rutting against my leg like a dirty dog?” a gruff voice asked. “Geralt, no, I –“ the bard tried to answer, only to be cut off by another tug on his hair. “Quiet bard! I did not allow you to talk back to me. You want to act like a dog in heat, I’m gonna treat you like one. You will not say one word, unless spoken to. You will not touch yourself. You want to rut? Fine. I want you to rut against my thigh until you come in your breeches. And then, _if_ I’m satisfied I will take my pleasure out of you. You’ve aroused me, after all, I might as well make the most of my time before going back to sleep.”

Jaskier could only moan at the words. He started humping, obeying the witcher as best as he could. Geralt hand went to grab the bard’s wrists and hold them against his chest, his other hand still locked in his hair, tugging lazily from time to time.

“You know, I actually like seeing you helpless like that. At my mercy, not allowed to speak. Oh, yes, it feels good to have some quiet. I love your mouth, and you are talented with it, it’s true. But I do prefer it when it’s shut or locked around my cock. My favourite sounds from you are the kind you’re making right now. Soft little moans, like an innocent girl discovering the pleasure of the flesh for the first time. Yes. Yes just like that, do it again my little bard. Moan for me.”

Jaskier had no control on the sounds coming out of his throat now. He was lost to the burning of his flesh, throbbing against his breeches. The sensation absolutely maddening but not enough yet. He moved his hips with more vigour, chasing his pleasure.

Geralt, being the bastard that he was, as Jaskier mentally put it, withdrew his knee just enough to cancel any effort from Jaskier, making him whine in frustration.

A cruel chuckle left his lips before he moved up his knee again, more forcefully this time.

“Poor little bard. Do you feel this frustration? This is what I felt for so long. During those many months it took us to be together. The months it took you to finally acknowledge your feelings for me, your desire and to confront me. You have no idea how many times you’ve made me hard. How many times I’ve felt your hard on against my back as we shared beds and what it did to me. How often I’ve touched myself while you slept, or while you bathed but couldn’t see me. How often I’ve wished I could plunge into you, make you shudder and scream my name. So I would tug at myself, grip my cock or fuck my hole. Wishing it were your fingers, wishing it were your cock. Sometimes I could hear you whimper my name in your sleep. I would fuck myself to the sound of it, wishing that one day you’d be doing the exact same noises as I would fill you to the brim. I imagined what you would taste like. How your cock would feel against my tongue. I’ve scared more than one whore screaming your name as I would come into them. They could not understand.”

“ It took us a long time to get there. But now I have you. We have each other, and I love, oh I love so much how well you fit around my cock. I could have never imagined the feeling well enough. I could not imagine how wanting you would be. My own little whore. So eager to fuck, to be owned. Always ready to swallow every last drop of my cum. Do you want to be filled tonight? Do you want me to tear you open and ram into you?”

“Yes, yes, please Geralt,” the bard answered shakily, nodding frenetically.

“Then keep rutting. Rut my little dog. Come on my knee, come all over yourself. I know you can do it. I know it makes you hard, being treated like that. This is what you deserve. Ah! Yes, that’s it. I can smell it. Fuck yourself on me. Be a good boy. Cum for me. Come on, come for your master.”

Jaskier’s hip bucked one last time and he came with a strangled moan. Geralt kept pulling at his hair and whispering filth to his hear as the bard came all over himself. His juice now soaking through his pant, wetting the witcher’s leather. His hips were still thrusting as he came down from his high, his member rubbing itself in his come. Geralt hummed in delight at the sight of him then let go of his hair and his hand, raised himself up, kneeling on the bed before he grasping Jaskier and turning him on all four. With a strong hand he raised his hips upward and shoved down his breeches, pulling the fabric just under his ass, but keeping it on on his front, so that the bard’s cock would stay stuck in his cum filled pants.

“You did well,” the witcher said in his usual growl, “now, I will take my pleasure out of you, just like you deserve.”

He untied his leather and brought them down to free his cock. He sucked his own fingers before spreading the spit around Jaskier’s tight hole. He entered one finger, eliciting sharp gasps from the bard. He quickly prepared him open, not taking care to go slow or to lubricate his fingers again as he pushed a second one in, then a third. He knew Jaskier could take it, he had done so before and loved it. The bard thrust up his hips, silently asking for more.

“Always so wanton, my little dog,” Geralt whispered, hints of admiration in his voice. “Patience.”

He licked his palm before wrapping his hand around his member, spreading the moisture around his length. He didn’t need to touch himself much, he was already rock hard thanks to Jaskier’s little show against his leg. He pressed his cockhead against the hole, feeling the heat radiating from it. The bard whined as he pushed, slowly entering him, stretching him open.

“You feel so good. So warm, so tight. You were made for me my love.”

Jaskier could only moan, he had lost all capacity to speak. He felt his cock coming to life again. Geralt would be the death of him, he thought in despair. He tried to palm himself over his breeches, only to receive a sharp slap on his arsecheek.

Geralt tutted. “You had your chance on my knee, if you have to come, you’ll come without touching.”

The bard cried in frustration, only to be cut out by Geralt withdrawing and entering him again ever so slowly. He kept this pace for a few thrust, not because he feared for Jaskier, but only to drag out his own pleasure. To be able to feel the clenching hole on his cock. But he soon lost patience and quickened his pace. Ramming harder and harder in the bard, until he was almost propelling him forward with the force of his thrust. His hands were locked around the bard’s waist, locking him into place so he could fuck him to his liking. Fast and raw. Letting no time for the bard to catch his breath. Always hitting that delicious spot inside of him.

He felt himself getting close. He leaned on Jaskier’s back, placating him against the mattress, locking his cock against the sheets and rammed impossibly harder into him. Jaskier feels like a ragdoll behind him, he has completely submitted to him, soft and pliant. His to take.

One last push of his hips and Geralt lost all control of himself. He feels his balls tighten and shoots his load into the bard. A screamed escaped his lips before he bit down on Jaskier’s shoulder. This was the last drop for the bard, he came, shouting Geralt’s name and bucking under him, his hole clenching and milking Geralt’s member that he can feel spurting again and again inside him.

Geralt hmm with satisfaction. Still buried in Jaskier’s heat he lies both of them down on their side, spooning Jaskier, locking him against his chest and lips resting atop his head.

“Now sleep. We’ll clean up tomorrow, my little pet,” he whispered with a sleepy voice.

The bard nodded his assent and relaxed against the witcher’s back, feeling the cum oozing out of his filled hole and feeling grateful, for once, for his dirty sleeping mind that brought them here.


End file.
